


Sunday Lunch

by tbat



Category: Persona 3, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, Unfortunately He Will Not Get His Wish, fluffy comfy cooking time, lots of butchered descriptions of food/cooking, poor shinji just wants to cook in peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-20 23:20:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21289832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tbat/pseuds/tbat
Summary: A trip to the kitchen leads Minako to make a rare discovery about Shinji.
Relationships: Aragaki Shinjiro/Arisato Minako
Comments: 4
Kudos: 69





	Sunday Lunch

Minako opened the front door to the dorms, the lounge area silent and empty, as she'd been hoping. It was Sunday, after all, and as far as she knew, everyone had plans for most of the day. Even Aigis had been convinced to go out with Yukari in an effort to train her to blend in better in social situations. Her current mission was learning how to properly laugh, as right now Aigis' interpretation of a laugh involved delivering each “ha” at the same pitch and rhythm, and with a deliberateness to it that made it clear she was making a very conscious choice to continue the laugh. Upon hearing this, Yukari had declared Proper Laughing Etiquette a matter of urgent importance and whisked the baffled android away for the day. This left even the most common occupant of the dorms absent- perfect for Minako's plans.

For whatever reason, the mood to cook rather than eat out constantly had struck her recently, and she figured that today would be the best day to indulge this newfound whim. Nobody else would be around and wanting to prepare their own lunch, or, in Junpei’s case, to start funneling pizzas into the microwave. She’d be free to take her time and experiment.

Or she would have, had she not been immediately greeted by the sight of a familiar large red overcoat, its wearer standing in front of the cooker and carefully dropping something into a pot placed on top of it. A rich, layered scent of spices, onions and garlic, all slowly cooking together, floated pleasantly towards her.

It smelt...good. One of the most appetizing smells she’d enjoyed in a while, in fact.

“Shinjiro-senpai?” she called out, taking a step forward. He whipped round to face her, his usual surly expression replaced by a shocked, open-mouthed gawk. A large, scrunched-up bundle of cloth was clutched firmly in his hand.

“What the he-“ he choked out. As if on instinct, he shifted himself and spread his arms out a little in an attempt to block her view of the cooker. Too little too late, given she could quite easily- and quite happily- _smell_ what he was up to.

“Shit...the one day nobody’s supposed to be here...” he muttered to himself, sneaking a glance back towards the pot, like he was checking it hadn’t tried to creep its way along the stove and say hello to Minako.

Minako began leaning left, then right, then left again, propping herself up on her toes as she tried to overcome Shinjiro’s height and sneak a glance at the pot bubbling shamefully behind him. He matched each sway to the side perfectly, parrying every attempt to pierce the maroon veil of his coat and keeping the coveted cooking firmly out of sight. His face fell into an exasperated frown. Minako chose to match it with a wide, eager beam.

“I didn’t know you cooked, Shinjiro-senpai!” she chirped, trying to steal one last glance with a crane of her neck. Shinjiro’s maximum security measures remained insurmountable. He sighed, his shoulders deflating. There was no use hiding it now.

“It’s not like I make a habit of it or anything...” he said, his eyes drifting away from her.

Minako didn’t respond, instead making a point of staring down at the fabric in his hand. Several long strings dangled down from it, and a closer inspection revealed various stains, both fresh and old, scattered across it. The material itself was not _worn down_ by any means, but there were enough creases and a certain faded look to its colour that told Minako this was far from the first time it had been used. It was also, she noted rather belatedly, coloured a pale pink.

There was no denying it. It was an apron. And she could see that, no matter how quickly Shinjiro tried to hide it behind his back- which he had done so fast his hand had knocked against the cooker with a dull thud, eliciting a brief grunt.

Brandishing a grin that was equal parts cheery enthusiasm and mischievous, Minako approached him with slow, deliberate steps, the purpose with which she walked making it clear her destination wasn’t him, but rather what was _behind_ him. Shinjiro stepped to the side, clearing her path to the cooker with a roll of his eyes.

A pot of boiling pasta greeted her, alongside a pan filled with a generous helping of onions, garlic and red peppers- no doubt the source of the smell. Now that she was closer the aroma had only gotten more enticing, and she couldn’t help but inhale deeply. It smelt delicious, and it wasn’t even done yet.

She turned towards Shinjiro, now leaning against the counter with his arms folded.

“Can I try some?” she pleaded, inching closer to him.

He shook his head, eyes narrowing.

“No way. Forget it.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Minako whined, her voice pitching upwards.

“I said _no_.” He shuffled uncomfortably on the spot, eyes falling to the floor. “And don’t tell anyone about this, either. It’s bad enough that you know,” he mumbled, his head hanging a little lower. 

Minako paused, replaying his words in her head. Unless she’d heard wrong, he hadn’t seemed all irritable and grumpy, as was the Shinjiro Standard. No, this almost seemed... _bashful_ .

Well, this was a new one on her. One she wouldn’t mind seeing more of.

Her grin widened. Standing up straighter and puffing her chest out, she jabbed a finger towards him.

“Let me taste it! That’s an order as your leader!” she barked, adopting a stern frown. It was somewhat undermined by the laughs she was trying to force down, her lips shaking like a wooden barricade under siege from a battering ram and splintering more with every hit.

“You’re pulling rank? Seriously...?” Shinjiro asked wearily.

“Yup,” she said, the giggles finally breaking through her defenses and being let loose.

Shinjiro let out a long, deep sigh of despair, like air slowly escaping from a balloon.

“Fine. Just...wait over there, will you?” he said, pointing to the corner furthest away from him.

“Sure, sure,” Minako replied, making her way towards her quarantine zone. She hopped up onto a nearby counter, her legs idly kicking off the side as she sat.

Shooting her a warning look, as if to say “move from that spot and I throw this food away,” Shinjiro finally turned around and resumed cooking.

A few minutes passed by in relative silence, the only sounds in the kitchen the bubbling of the water as it boiled the pasta, and the sizzle of the pan.

Shinjiro didn’t say a word, content to sprinkle the odd new ingredient in or give something a quick stir. Minako’s eyes didn’t leave him the entire time, her gaze firmly focused and not planning on shifting any time soon.

Watching him work away was quite fascinating, really. He had quite a knack for cooking, that much was clear, but Minako couldn’t help but notice there was something...awkward about his movements. They were stiff. Slow. Self-conscious, in a way. Like he wasn’t entirely comfortable with what he was doing, even though his obvious skills suggested otherwise.

“Hey, Senpai?” she called out, “What’re you so nervous for? C’mon, relax!”

“How am I supposed to relax with you...staring at me like that?” he responded, turning to her with a look that seemed rather more anxious than he probably intended.

“Oh, don’t worry about that! Just pretend I’m not here!”

“And how do I do _that _if you won’t stop talking to me?” Shinjiro retorted, crossing his arms. 

Minako’s mouth remained closed, even as her grin spread wider and wider. Several seconds passed by as the two stared at each other, the smile firmly plastered on her face the architect of the most thunderingly noisy silence either of them had ever experienced. Eventually, Shinjiro relented, narrowing his eyes in an unamused glare- although Minako managed to spot a flicker of a smirk sneaking onto his face as his gaze left hers.

He resumed cooking, the pair as silent as ever. Minako, of course, steadfastly refused to look at anything but Shinjiro, observing him with a keen, almost unblinking interest.

His movements seemed to be at least a little more natural than they had been before her intervention, the confidence she imagined he normally exhibited in the kitchen gradually reemerging. The pot was stirred with a smooth, unbroken rhythm. Seasonings were deftly sprinkled in as though he knew on sight exactly how much he needed. There was still a lingering clumsiness, primarily in the form of the odd look her way, but the improvement was visible nonetheless.

It was...really quite pleasant- relaxing, even- to watch him. To note all the care, the attention to detail, the  _skill _ with which he cooked. It was a stark contrast from the Shinjiro she was used to, all bluntness and sulking and headbutting things he really shouldn’t be headbutting.

It was an unusual sight, but maybe not a wholly unexpected one for her. That harsh exterior he tried to project had always been undermined by the looming shadow of the underlying kindness behind so many of his actions. Right now he was just being that tiny bit more honest with himself, pulling back the curtain by an inch, and Minako was finding herself quickly growing fond of what she saw behind it. Maybe even a tiny bit glad that  _she _ was the one to see him like this, not anybody else.

“Alright, it’s done.”

Minako was shaken from her increasingly infatuated thoughts by the sound of his voice, her head jerking up and her eyes refocusing on him. Shinjiro walked towards her, a bowl clutched in his hands, and thrust it into her own hands like he was desperate to be rid of it. A fork was placed next to her with a clatter.

“Here. Eat up,” he said, his tone harsh and exasperated. Or rather, he’d _tried _to make it sound harsh and exasperated, but Minako could hear a tiny spark of warmth sneaking into his voice as he spoke, like a candle in a blizzard.

She lowered the bowl onto her lap, peering down at the contents- a generous helping of pasta coated in a thick sauce, topped with a light sprinkle of cheese on top of it. It looked about as good as it smelt, which seemed like a good sign.

"Thanks for the food!" she said with a shallow bow of her head towards Shinjiro before grabbing her cutlery.

Wasting no time, she scooped up her first helping and brought it to her mouth. She chewed slowly, deliberately, letting herself thoroughly taste the meal. A few chews in, her eyes began to widen, a heavy swallow punctuating her shocked expression. Plunging a fork back into the bowl, she took another bite.

Then another.

And another.

Any pretense at maintaining the steady, measured pace of a Serious Food Critic was quickly lost as she eagerly devoured the dish, her face glowing brighter and brighter with delight after each bite.

Shinjiro's cooking being good, she'd mentally prepared herself for that. Minako-induced awkwardness aside, nobody made their way through a kitchen with the kind of confidence he had without being at least decent. But  _this _ was above and beyond her expectations.

The pasta had been skillfully cooked al dente, managing to achieve an appetizing firmness without feeling too undercooked. The sauce was cooked to perfection in just about every way. Spread evenly across the pasta to ensure every bite would be properly coated, the different ingredients constituting its make-up balanced perfectly. The spiciness of the pepper, in particular, had been precisely measured- just enough to keep the flavour strong without becoming overwhelming. Topping it all off, the cheese Shinjiro had spread sparingly across the meal added a subtle extra flavour to every bite.

Minako was vaguely aware of all of these factors, but in the moment, preoccupied as she was with eating, her thoughts mostly boiled down to "yum yum pasta good."

Ten minutes later, Minako swallowed her final mouthful, relishing the taste. Laying her fork in the bowl, she looked at Shinjiro with a wide, awestruck smile.

"That...that was amazing, senpai!" she exclaimed.

"Amazing, huh...?" Shinjiro said, impulsively rubbing the back of his neck as his eyes darted away from her. "Whatever you say."

There was that bashfulness again. Shinjiro, she was rapidily discovering, was really quite cute when he was embarrassed.

"I'm serious! You're a great chef, you know."

"It's...really nothing special. Just a few simple meals..." he replied, his normally gruff, level voice wavering ever so slightly as he spoke. For an instant a flash of red surged across his face before fading just as quickly.

"Don't be so modest! This is the best meal I've had in a while," Minako said. She fell silent, giving the now-empty bowl sitting in her lap a contemplative stare. After a few seconds, her head shot back up to meet Shinjiro's gaze, her eyes shining with inspiration. "Hey, we should do this again sometime!"

"'This?'" Shinjiro echoed back, puzzled.

"You know, have a meal together! Although...maybe next time you could eat something as well."

"Eating together, huh?" Shinjiro's eyes closed in thought. A moment later, he opened them again with a small smile.

"Sure. I guess that wouldn't be so bad.  _But..._ " he said, a stern frown dragging his lips back down like a lead weight, "Just you and me, alright? I, uh...I don't want anyone else knowing about this."

That rare redness returned to his face, brighter and spreading further across his face than before. If he thought he was being subtle, he was sorely mistaken.

Minako let out a short laugh.

"Whatever you say, Shinjiro-senpai."

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> very late food for friend, now with actual food.


End file.
